Page 128 of From the Wreckage

We sit in the quiet for a while, until she whispers, “Do you think… Maybe I should talk to someone?”

The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest ache. I don’t push, don’t smother. I just nod. “I think it’d help. And I’ll help you find the right person.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she nods. “Okay.”

By midmorning, I’m at the kitchen table with her laptop open, scrolling through local listings. I read reviews out loud, cross-check credentials, and listen when she shakes her head or leans forward with interest. When her hands start trembling, I cover them with mine.

“Let me call,” I say gently.

Relief floods her face, and she nods.

The appointment is set for that afternoon.

When we pull into the lot, Bri’s breathing grows shallow. Her grip on my hand turns fierce. I shut the truck off and face her. “You’re braver than you think, angel. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

She nods, then steps out, her shoulders squared.

I watch her walk inside, every protective instinct in me screaming to follow, but I stay put. She needs to do this her way. If she wanted me to go with her, she’d ask.

An hour later, the door opens. She comes back out, her eyes red but her step lighter somehow, like she left some of the weight inside. She slides into the passenger seat and exhales, shaky but steady.

I don’t ask questions. I just reach over and take her hand.

Her fingers curl into mine, and she whispers, “Thank you.”

Those words feel like a victory.

On the drive back, she rests her head against my shoulder, her sunflower pendant glinting in the sunlight.

For the first time in too long, hope feels real.

CHAPTER 95

Brielle

By the timeI walk into the kitchen, Everett’s already there, coffee mug in one hand, the other braced against the counter like he’s holding the world up. His eyes find mine, and I know instantly that something’s coming. Something serious.

“Angel,” he says softly, “I need to tell you about what I found in the apartment you shared with Meghan.” He pulls out a chair, and I sit, my heart pounding from fear.

But whatever Everett tells me, I’m certain I can handle it because he’s here with me.

My mouth hangs open after he tells me, ending with “Your dad had those pills tested.”

My chest tightens. “And?”

“They were roofies.” His jaw flexes, rage simmering just beneath the surface. “Mixed with that liquor, it would’ve dropped you fast.”

I grip the counter, bile rising in my throat. A part of me already knew, but hearing it confirmed knocks the air out of me. “So… I wasn’t crazy. My body didn’t just…” I can’t finish.

Everett sets his mug aside and comes to me, his hands warm on my arms. “You weren’t crazy. You were drugged. You were targeted. And now everyone knows.”

My throat burns. “Everyone?”

He nods. “The whispers turned into more than whispers. Videos. Testimonies. Other women came forward.”

His words crash through me. It wasn’t just me. I wasn’t the only one. My stomach twists, but beneath it all, something in me loosens. I wasn’t alone. I never was.

His voice is low and fierce. “Joey’s been kicked off the team and expelled. Meghan confessed to helping cover for him. Then she vanished—last anyone heard, she ran to another state.”